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Top Review
Fabulous Cardamom Sketch, Clumsily Finished
The Kingdom of Morocco has only about 35 million inhabitants, roughly the same as Poland or Spain. Nevertheless, and although it is quite far from Germany and belongs to a culturally rather foreign region, the Moroccan cities, many of them, have achieved considerable fame here. Casablanca (known among other things from the film of the same name), Rabat (the capital), and Agadir (as a tourist destination or because of the "Panther Jump") are probably "known" by everyone. But also Tangier (with its highly interesting recent past as an international zone), Fes, possibly Meknes and Essaouira, and definitely Marrakech should at least be "somehow" familiar to most. It's actually exciting because, although Poland borders Germany, most people would probably not be able to name many more Polish cities spontaneously.
The other question is whether we "in the West" associate something very specific with these Moroccan cities, or whether their names represent rather interchangeable symbols for us, each conjuring an image of a magnificent Almoravid royal palace with a garden, a souk filled with bags of spices, and a coffee in a copper pot (or a heavily sweetened tea with lots of fresh mint in a glass) in our mind's eye. I suspect that the folks at Aesop (to whom I have already written a few unflattering lines in my comment on "Hwyl") were more inclined towards the second alternative when naming this fragrance, aiming to set a clearly recognizable sign of "oriental scent" rather than connecting to specific Marrakechiensia. As for the name addition "Intense" (which I find aesthetically inappropriate alongside the term "Marrakech," and which I actually consider more of a joke, I will elaborate on that), it reminds us that the fragrance apparently originated as a flanker to "Marrakech" from the same house but has now been left standing alone, as "Marrakech" has disappeared from the market. If the "Marrakech" of blessed memory was even less "intense" than "Marrakech Intense," then its disappearance is more than justified.
Despite the flashy oriental name, "MI" is not a typical, and certainly not a boring or even ordinary oriental fragrance. Above all, it is neither heavy nor overly sweet. I actually know no other scent of this kind. The core of this fragrance, the "falcon" so to speak, is the cardamom-citrus motif in the top note. The clove mentioned in previous comments and statements is, in my perception, not dominant at all; in fact, I hardly notice it separately, as it really just rounds off the experience. In contrast, the cardamom with its very special ethereal-oily spicy freshness is unmistakable. At the beginning, one really thinks they are smelling freshly ground cardamom pods, almost tasting them just before they are added as a spice to an Arabic coffee. This cardamom scent is framed and softened by citrus notes that seemed orangey to me, but very light and airy (bergamot and neroli in the ingredient list are plausible). Thus, it does not become too heavy-spiced but retains a playful, sprightly, and cheerful freshness. This motif is highly interesting and could have made a wonderful top note for a thrillingly composed fantastic fragrance. But unfortunately, after that, there is not much left for my nose, except for a few lackluster single notes. After about an hour, I perceive a distinct (by no means unpleasant) rose scent, and after about 4 hours, everything diffuses into a vague sweet-woody (not sweet-licorice) base.
The whole thing reminds me of the unfinished score of a great composer, which was then "completed" by a third-rate student after his death and then brought to market. As it stands now, it is not inspiring.
In conclusion, this is my second Aesop test and my second disappointment regarding sillage and especially longevity. I know, a good fragrance does not necessarily have to be long-lasting, nor does it have to be a good and expensive fragrance. But with a fragrance that is rather pricey in the "Oriental" genre with wood, jasmine, and rose in the ingredient list, I do expect it to accompany me throughout the day. This is not the case here.
Conclusion: Great and quite fitting cardamom-citrus motif for Morocco, but disappointing as a perfume in overall impression.
The other question is whether we "in the West" associate something very specific with these Moroccan cities, or whether their names represent rather interchangeable symbols for us, each conjuring an image of a magnificent Almoravid royal palace with a garden, a souk filled with bags of spices, and a coffee in a copper pot (or a heavily sweetened tea with lots of fresh mint in a glass) in our mind's eye. I suspect that the folks at Aesop (to whom I have already written a few unflattering lines in my comment on "Hwyl") were more inclined towards the second alternative when naming this fragrance, aiming to set a clearly recognizable sign of "oriental scent" rather than connecting to specific Marrakechiensia. As for the name addition "Intense" (which I find aesthetically inappropriate alongside the term "Marrakech," and which I actually consider more of a joke, I will elaborate on that), it reminds us that the fragrance apparently originated as a flanker to "Marrakech" from the same house but has now been left standing alone, as "Marrakech" has disappeared from the market. If the "Marrakech" of blessed memory was even less "intense" than "Marrakech Intense," then its disappearance is more than justified.
Despite the flashy oriental name, "MI" is not a typical, and certainly not a boring or even ordinary oriental fragrance. Above all, it is neither heavy nor overly sweet. I actually know no other scent of this kind. The core of this fragrance, the "falcon" so to speak, is the cardamom-citrus motif in the top note. The clove mentioned in previous comments and statements is, in my perception, not dominant at all; in fact, I hardly notice it separately, as it really just rounds off the experience. In contrast, the cardamom with its very special ethereal-oily spicy freshness is unmistakable. At the beginning, one really thinks they are smelling freshly ground cardamom pods, almost tasting them just before they are added as a spice to an Arabic coffee. This cardamom scent is framed and softened by citrus notes that seemed orangey to me, but very light and airy (bergamot and neroli in the ingredient list are plausible). Thus, it does not become too heavy-spiced but retains a playful, sprightly, and cheerful freshness. This motif is highly interesting and could have made a wonderful top note for a thrillingly composed fantastic fragrance. But unfortunately, after that, there is not much left for my nose, except for a few lackluster single notes. After about an hour, I perceive a distinct (by no means unpleasant) rose scent, and after about 4 hours, everything diffuses into a vague sweet-woody (not sweet-licorice) base.
The whole thing reminds me of the unfinished score of a great composer, which was then "completed" by a third-rate student after his death and then brought to market. As it stands now, it is not inspiring.
In conclusion, this is my second Aesop test and my second disappointment regarding sillage and especially longevity. I know, a good fragrance does not necessarily have to be long-lasting, nor does it have to be a good and expensive fragrance. But with a fragrance that is rather pricey in the "Oriental" genre with wood, jasmine, and rose in the ingredient list, I do expect it to accompany me throughout the day. This is not the case here.
Conclusion: Great and quite fitting cardamom-citrus motif for Morocco, but disappointing as a perfume in overall impression.
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11 Comments


Otherwise, I can totally understand your disappointment. Not all fragrances need to be long-lasting powerhouses (sometimes that can even be off-putting; at some point, you want to refresh your scent), but fragrances that seem to rely solely on their top note are, well, how else can I put it, incomplete? Wouldn't you agree?